


Boolean Gemini

by Priestess of Fire (Greywalker)



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga), Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Crossover, Death is only a minor setback, Fluff and Humor, I had to get this out of my system, M/M, unapologetic fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greywalker/pseuds/Priestess%20of%20Fire
Summary: "Fight your way!" -description of the Boolean Gemini scout rifleSecond chances don't come every day, but even when you live in a world where miracles aren't quite so impossible, you don't let a rare opportunity pass you by. Sometimes, though, you have to fight for them. And maybe...all endings really are beginnings.Note:Knowledge of the Destinyverse is not necessary!





	1. No Land Beyond

_Watching waiting rising falling_  
_Listening calling drifting_  
_Touching feeling seeing believing_  
_Hoping sending leaving_  
  
_I couldn't say why you and I are Gemini_  
_We're travelling a million worlds away_  
_I see your shadow coming closer_  
_Then watch you drifting away_

-[ Alan Parsons Project, "Gemini" ](https://youtu.be/hTDLeMKjQ4g)

* * *

" _Every hit blazes the path to our reclamation._ " -description of the No Land Beyond sniper rifle

* * *

It was not what Slaine Troyard could – in all honesty – call a fresh start.

The brilliance of Clovis Bray was not confined to his scientific mind. The founder of the premier exoscience company, headquartered on Mars, was a canny businessman, and for that he needed to be cunning and somewhat morally-flexible. The ease at which he had freed the former Count from the UFE's auspices should have surprised no one...nor should the fact that this was hardly freedom. Slaine was now the property of Clovis Bray Industries, officially an "employee" but one unable to quit or even leave the campus on the independent settlement of Freehold, supposedly for his own safety. He was no longer confined to an official prison, but in most ways he was still a prisoner.

There was, admittedly, some truth to supposed safety concerns. Bray had essentially blackmailed the UFE into turning the war criminal over to the shadowy company, in no uncertain terms threatening to go public with his living status and innocence in the assassination plot to murder Princess Asseylum. Why the company's founder had even bothered with him was a bigger mystery than _how_ he had managed to uncover the truth. His intelligence network was practically military-grade, with many former UFE and even Versian intelligence specialists now working for him, and with Clovis Bray's resources, it had only been a matter of time before he untangled the skein of lies regarding Count Saazbaum Troyard. The UFE had only been forestalling the inevitable.

But what value the scientist-businessman saw in a broken Terran-born Versian leader... _that_ was something actually surprising. Bray had claimed that it was his wide array of skills – including his impressive piloting – which had made him valuable to have on his payroll. Slaine, however, suspected he was simply leverage with the UFE. Perhaps it was a little of both; Bray tended to think in the long-term with various objectives and reasons for his actions. Not to mention that he had a healthy sense of paranoia which had probably kept him alive all this time.

That much was readily apparent in how the fallen Orbital Knight was being smuggled off his homeworld. The Off-World Transit station had been deserted at this time of day, with few shuttles leaving Earth until the mid-afternoon, making it easy for a security team from Bray to run checks on those few patrons milling about and make sure he was seen by as few others as possible. There had been, however, one person from his old life with a high enough clearance who had come to see him off.

Inaho Kaizuka had been his sole visitor all those years in prison, coming by frequently to share news of the scientific discoveries made following the Traveller's arrival and the eventual abandonment of Aldnoah research, whether Slaine had wanted him to or not. Now here he was, the only person bidding him farewell. But though the towhead had a great many things to be bitter about, the fact that his former nemesis was the last thing from his old life that he would see before returning to Vers wasn't one of them. It was a little comforting, in fact. He wasn't sure he could ever face Asseylum again, both because of what he'd done and what had probably been her reason for never visiting him. She was the sort of person who would cut ties with someone if she believed her presence would cause too much pain. Her kindness could be cruel; he would have liked to have seen her at least one more time no matter how painful it would have been for him.

But maybe she was right...maybe it would be best to cut all ties to his past, which included his once-enemy. Perhaps in some other life they could have been friends, but there was too much between them now. It was better if they went their separate ways permanently.

"Would you like me to visit you?" Inaho asked earnestly.

Slaine could feel the surprise change his expression before he stifled it, shaking his head. Honestly, after all he'd done, he couldn't understand how Inaho could so easily set aside their past as bitter adversaries.

"No, that's fine. I think we're both going to be too busy. Besides, Bray's ridiculously uptight about admitting non-personnel into the backend, war hero or otherwise."

"Then, maybe written correspondence?"

The blond nearly laughed at the other man's earnestness, only held back by the bitterness of what he was certain had to do. As much as he would have, years ago, loved to punish the brunet, it was almost amusing how he now tried to spare his feelings. A petty revenge was well within his grasp, if only he hadn't let go of his hatred years ago.

"I...think I'm restricted in my contact with anyone outside Bray. I'm sorry."

Had there been a bit of a determined glint in that russet eye?

"I'll find a way, if that's what you want, Bat."

Just like with Bray, Slaine couldn't understand why the other man would bother with him. It was hardly a stretch to imagine that the mastermind behind the UFE's victory could outmanoeuvre even Clovis Bray, but why on Earth and Vers would he _want_ to?

"Look, Orange, don't worry about it. I doubt I'll have time for much of anything outside work. I'll be lucky if they even let me have a hobby. Just...forget about it. You don't have to worry about me any more."  

It was probably true, but Slaine nearly took it back at the brief flicker of emotion that passed through Inaho's remaining organic eye. _I must be seeing things_ , he reasoned, because it couldn't possibly have been sadness and disappointment. Why would Inaho care about someone like him? Why did he look – in spite of that impassive face – as if he was merely one step away from begging him not to leave? If anything, he should have been delighted that he had no further obligations of responsibility for his former enemy.  He had kept his promise to Asseylum, he was still alive and breathing, and now Slaine was finally off his hands.

"...Oh."

As things stood now, he could understand what Asseylum had been thinking when she kept herself from visiting him. It wasn't all that different from what Slaine was determined to do. They had caused each other too much pain and suffering to keep going like this and pretend they were friends. It was better to simply follow the example of the Princess – she was the Empress now, he had to remind himself – and cut ties as neatly as he could. It was the one mercy that was within his power to grant, a small thanks for the mercy he had been granted.

"Well...this is it," he remarked as the rest of his life loomed ahead of him. There was never a distant horizon or a land beyond where he was, not for him. There was only the here and now.

"For what it's worth, Inaho...thank you."

He turned, hefting his duffel bag over his shoulder as he headed for his shuttle, and that was the last time Slaine saw his former rival in that lifetime.

* * *

_Seven Centuries Later_

As always, his fireteam went their separate ways once their objective was complete and their report finished.

Inaho couldn't even be annoyed. For as long as he could remember, he preferred working alone, and that had not changed in the slightest over the many years since his resurrection. If anything, he had become more closed-off and aloof. The russet-eyed Hunter rarely spoke to anyone aside from Vanguard's leaders or his Ghost, the ubiquitous artificial life-form companion of every Guardian and the one responsible for the resurrection of their long-dead former corpses. There was no need for social pleasantries which were an unnecessary amount of trouble.

It wasn't as if he could help it. He had lost his remaining family and all his friends, everyone he cared about and anyone who could bridge the gap between him and anyone outside his tight-knit circle. Social cues had never been things he had particularly cared about, and he had never appreciated his older sister and his friends quite as much as he did now for all they had done for him when it came to interactions with others. He had never been one to take them for granted, but there was nothing quite like loss to affirm how precious they had been to him.

Yet, in spite of keeping everyone at a metaphorical arm's-length, it simply wasn't possible to eschew interaction entirely. Even the most anti-social of Hunters had to file reports, have ships repaired, place special orders for weapons, and give and receive commands in missions. For the first time in his life -- or more accurately, second life -- he had been forced to learn how to read people on his own, though he continued to do so only with great difficulty.

Even more challenging was self-expression. It had gotten to the point that he hardly minded reporting to Commander Zavala after certain missions, finding it rarely necessary to elaborate beyond comfortable, precise terms. The stoic, no-nonsense Vanguard representative for Titan-class Guardians, interestingly enough, appreciated him and his ways for being up to his standards of proper efficiency. In fact, Inaho was fairly certain he had once overheard the Titan complaining to Cayde-6 about why more of his Hunters couldn't be more like the unassuming brunet.

He hadn't bothered to wait around for the Hunter representative's inevitable sarcastic comeback.

But despite feeling uncomfortable socialising with others beyond the minimal necessary contact, loneliness would eat away at him in solitary moments. It was the first time he could ever recall feeling such an emotion, having been constantly surrounded by his tiny circle in his previous life. Their absence was a dull pain that refused to leave completely, though it ebbed at times when he was at his busiest. He had continued to search for any signs that they might have also been sought out by one of the Ghosts and been similarly revived, but so far all his efforts had been in vain. And with each failure, it seemed a little more of himself shut down, and even the constant company of his own Ghost was of little comfort during such times.

And there was one pain in particular he felt more keenly than others, perhaps due to the regret which further embittered the accompanying loneliness. It was foolish; this particular hole in his life had been present for years before his death, and there had never been anything resembling the friendship or intimacy with that person that he had found himself longing for before they had gone their separate ways. He had no right at all to miss that person as terribly as he did, to long for him even now. But a selfish part of him hoped for the same resurrection, to be able to meet that person again, and perhaps to start over on the terms they should have so many years ago.

The kinder side of him, however, hoped Slaine Troyard had finally found the peace which had always seemed to elude him in life.

Δ  
Δ  
Λ

While he was buying extra ammunition synthesis cartridges from the gunsmith, Inaho heard the Tower's PA crackle to life.

<"Hello, this is Cayde-6 of the Vanguard. I'm aware this is an abuse of the Tower PA, but whoever took my Sparrow – when I find you...and I _will_ find you – you're assigned to ballin' up all the spare yarn from Zavala's Tuesday crochet class...wait, wait...nevermind, found it.">

He only half-paid attention to the announcement as he internally debated whether or not to place a special order for one of Häkke's new sidearms; it seemed like every other week his superior misplaced his hoverbike. More importantly to the Hunter, the prices were still too steep for his liking. Though Glimmer was hardly an issue for him, and the manufacturer in question made reliable weapons, he nevertheless chafed a bit at the cost in the programmable material that the City used for currency. Maybe he should wait until they went on sale…

<"Oh...and, uh. Inaho Kaizuka, report to Vanguard Hall. That's it.">

He stifled a sigh. Whatever Cayde needed from him, why couldn't he have addressed it when Inaho was there earlier?

He doubted anything had showed on his face, but the gunsmith gave him a sympathetic grunt, his artificial aqua eyes rolling upward in a simulation of human eye-rolling when Inaho's Ghost quipped for him.

"It would have been nice if he'd have just told us what he needed to when we were there," the diminutive AI grumbled as it hovered beside him, chirping and clicking as the sections making up its shell shifted in a clockwise motion.

The gunsmith, an old Exo named Banshee-44, was generally even grumpier than his current customer. Though an old friend of Cayde's – or perhaps _because_ he was – the former smuggler was well-aware of the other Exo's peculiarities.

"Guess ya better go see what he wants," the gunsmith muttered in his gravelly voice. "Everything'll still be here when ya get back...not goin' anywhere."

In response, Inaho merely nodded once before turning back for the stairway leading down into the Vanguard Hall, his Ghost trailing behind.

Eris Morn and Lord Shaxx greeted him in their own unique ways as he passed by...that is, if one could consider Eris's constant murmurs about the dangers of the mysterious Taken and Shaxx's needling to earn further glory in the Crucible to be "greetings". He ignored them both for the moment, boot-heels barely making muted sounds along with the whisper of his hooded cloak drifting lazily behind him as he made his way down the cavernous corridor.

As usual, Inaho didn't bother with any pleasantries, though fortunately no one seemed to expect them of him. Instead, he simply stood by the long table situated in the middle of the hall where each of the three leaders of the Vanguard poured over maps and ancient tomes. The closest thing to a command structure that the Guardians had, the Vanguard was responsible for both the defences of the Last City as well as the more military functions of assaults on various enemy strongholds and elimination of certain key threats.

Yet, participation was entirely voluntary. The paramilitary organisation was still a far cry from the UFE of centuries ago, with its much more rigorous structure and clear hierarchy, and though Inaho had deemed it the most prudent course of action to accept their leadership, he made that choice under his own will. Guardians could choose to work on their own, as many Hunters did, only taking the occasional bounties registered with the Vanguard's Frame. Others joined and worked directly for the Vanguard as many Titans did, or fit somewhere in-between, as many Warlocks seemed to. Furthermore, what would have been insubordination and the behaviour that had chafed the sensibilities of even the most permissive of his superiors was perfectly acceptable and even expected of Hunters such as him.

And for all his annoying habits, Cayde-6 had been, like him, a soldier in his previous life and understood what was needed. Pity that "just shoot it" was his go-to answer for nearly every problem, followed closely by "stab it" and "throw a knife at it".

"Oh hey, thanks for comin'," he greeted the other Hunter, looking up from the old map laying flat on the table in front of him. "Yeah, I know I'd just cut ya loose, but somethin' came up."

Good. At least he knew he had inconvenienced his subordinate.

When Inaho remained silent, Cayde cleared his throat – a simulated clearing of his throat, that is – and continued. "...So, we just got in a Kinderguardian fresh out of the oven. Pretty talented kid, from the looks of it."

The way the light struck the metal plates of the Exo's face seemed to almost deliberately form a smirk. "Heh...he might even give _you_ a run for your Glimmer."

Inaho kept his own expression impassive, though he was becoming a little more irritable as the minutes went by. First disrupting his comfortable pattern, and now this. Honestly, he couldn't begin to guess why Cayde would want to assign him to mentor duty when there were more than a few Hunters perfectly willing and able to do so, ones much more personable.

Something must have betrayed his doubts, because Cayde held up a hand and continued.

"I know what you're probably thinkin': why you? Well see...one, you're already here so it was easier just to grab you. Two, like I said, this kid's got potential, and I figure can't go wrong assignin' 'm to the best. So there ya go."

The brunet remained unconvinced, but maintaining his professionalism meant he couldn't pick and choose what assignments Cayde wanted to throw his way...even if other Hunters might have. Once more, he found himself keenly missing his family and friends; this assignment would have been perfect for Yuki.

"Anyway..." Cayde started, only to stop and check behind him, though his artificial eyes swept an undefined area. "Hey, knock it off with the goin' invisible, blondie. I told you nobody's gonna bite'cha over here."

Inaho could make out the subtle, telltale trembling of light from behind the balustrade separating the lower part of the hall from the atrium behind him. Not unlike the phenomenon which caused mirages, the barely-visible shimmer was the only way to detect the thermo-optic camouflage that certain types of Hunters employed. Depending on their preferences, they either activated it directly or, as Inaho did, use smoke bombs to conceal their movements for brief periods of time. Such was within the domain of Bladedancers and Nightstalkers...but newly-resurrected Hunters typically didn't learn such finely-tuned skills until later.

The new Hunter remained visually-obfuscated, but a quiet, almost timid voice spoke from the location. "C...could you please not call me that, sir?"

Inaho froze instantly, his eyes widening in shock as they bored into the dancing waves of bending light. He _knew_ that voice, even after all the empty years and the inevitable fading of memory. But he didn't dare allow himself to hope for a miracle…

Cayde's sarcastic drawl cut through the brunet's astonishment and persistent hope.

"Sure, just as long as you stop calling me 'sir'...makes me feel old. Oh, and by the way…"

With the abrupt sound of a dying spark, the camouflage finally dropped, and Inaho's breath caught in his throat. Something long-forgotten had awakened after nearly a century, a complicated knot of once-dead emotions blooming to life. Something inside his chest felt as if it was being crushed...but strangely, it wasn't a bad feeling. He knew what it was: hope, finally returning to him and all it entailed.

"...That hiding trick? Doesn't last forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL. I was going to sit on this until I had the next chapter of The Impossible Machines up, (don't worry, it's coming...it's just been difficult to write with RL smacking me around) but things happened. Namely, [this mini-trailer](https://youtu.be/rQ4i0AT8c-M) was released on Tuesday and [the official trailer](https://youtu.be/ZJLAJVmggt0) was released today. So in honour of the Destiny 2 hype train officially kicking off, I decided to go head and drop this since Cayde features prominently from the beginning. (Even if you don't know anything about Destiny, the trailers are entertaining.)
> 
> This is the result of wanting to write some Inasure drabble in the Destiny universe and trying to punch through some of my writer's block. So while my main work is more long-term with a much wider focus (among those being a budding friendship between our two boys) this one is a shamelessly romance-focused AU. Same humour, same touch of adventure, same Wild-West-in-the-future action...but with unrepentant shippy moments.
> 
> Special thanks to the Blue Roses Network on Discord for the enabling and help!


	2. Hereafter

_I took a trip on a Gemini spacecraft_  
_And I thought about you_  
_Well I shot my spacegun_  
_And I thought about you_  
_Pulled down my sun visor_  
_Boy, I really felt blue_  
_You jumped into your Gemini, I jumped into mine_  
_We'll orbit the Moon for just one time_  
_Tomorrow night, tomorrow night_  
_Will you hold hands with me under the moonlight?_  
  
-[David Bowie, "I Took a Trip on a Gemini Spaceship" ](https://youtu.be/BxpCMZpUiP4)

* * *

" _Huddled at the mountain's base, we had no choice but to beat our ploughshares into swords once more_."  
-description of the Hereafter sniper rifle

* * *

Familiar, luminous eyes of green-flecked blue which had haunted so many of his dreams – at least those he could recall – blinked owlishly at Inaho when Slaine realised his camouflage had lapsed. The running lights behind him illuminated airy, messy waves of platinum-blond hair like moonlight, highlighting a boyish, even delicate face with porcelain skin and long eyelashes…

Inaho ruthlessly crushed his line of thought. Apparently, a hundred years of separation hadn't been nearly long enough to break the mysterious hold the other man continued to have over him.  Not that he had been attracted to him physically at first, but even he had to admit that by most cultural standards, Slaine would have been classified as beautiful. He understood now why there were such poetic descriptions of a person's appearance when he had traditionally been baffled by them.

It seemed the years, rather than desensitising him, only served to make him sentimental in spite of his logic-driven nature.

"I was just...um…" said person stammered, fidgeting slightly from his crouched position behind the railing separating them.

Actually, it was rather obvious what he had been trying to do. Not that Inaho could in any way blame him; the brunet often wished he could camouflage without wasting a grenade and slip out of these meetings without his absence being noticed.

"...Trying to slink off somewhere? Yeah, I know. Look, I'm not like Zavala over there…" he punctuated his statement by jerking a thumb back at the head of the long table. In answer, the characteristic glowing eyes of an Awoken glared at the Exo Hunter as Zavala's pale grey lips formed a disapproving line.

"I don't have a moving speech about 'fighting the enemies of humankind' all lined up. I'll cut'cha both loose soon enough so you can go out an' have fun...while I'm stuck here, bored outta mind…"

Cayde ignored both Inaho's and Zavala's combined glowers and even the baffled stare from Slaine as he forged ahead.

"So, all you'd have to do is a few missions, maybe a bounty here and there…"

The senior Hunter paused, the lights of his optical sensors flicking to Inaho momentarily before focusing back on the neophyte.

"But I can see how Kaizuka's glaring at me, so I'll grab someone else..."

"I'll do it," Inaho cut him off a little too quickly.

He knew immediately how he had misstepped. Under normal circumstances, the Nightstalker would have sighed and grunted his answer, making it quite clear that this was a horrible inconvenience and that he was not pleased about it at all. This time, however...even Inaho himself could hear the hidden eagerness in his voice and understood how quickly he had accepted the duty. While it wasn't something most could pick up on, he had spent enough time with the Vanguard leaders for all three to slowly swivel their gazes towards him with disquieting stares.

"Did...I just hear that right?" Cayde asked, though Inaho surmised that it was a rhetorical question.

But though the second chance he had unexpectedly been given had been too good to pass up, that hardly meant he wanted to deal with the other Hunter constantly needling him for it. Affecting the most blasé expression he could muster, Inaho closed his eyes with the intention of projecting his usual long-suffering attitude.

"Given how you appear to enjoy assigning me useless tasks," he rapidly fired off as tonelessly as he was able, "A necessary one is preferable by comparison. Moreover, were I to turn this particular mission down, there is a ninety seven-point eight percent chance based on past experience that you would assign a more tedious one in its place. As this task is not entirely disagreeable," the 'disagreeable' part having absolutely nothing to do with the opportunity to work with Slaine, "I deemed it more prudent to accept this one in lieu of something much more problematic for me."

In spite of Inaho's sub-par people-reading skills, Cayde's entire projected demeanour was so obvious even he couldn't have missed it. The Exo's smirk was as blatant as the undeniable presence of the gradually-healing Traveller hovering over the City.

"OK, then," the Hunter representative drawled with amusement all too clear in his voice. Thankfully, he seemed to have let it go for the moment. No doubt that the younger Hunter was destined for future needling, however.

"That bein' the case, Kaizuka's just graciously agreed to bein' your babysitter," Cayde addressed the towheaded Hunter. "As grouchy as he looks like, he actually knows what he's doin', so stick with him for a few missions. Or, you know, until the urge to throttle him gets to be too much."

Slaine's eyes were wide as he stared at their superior, clearly befuddled.

For his own part, Inaho was similarly bemused, albeit for an entirely different reason. In their previous lives, the blond had always worn a metaphorical mask over his true emotions and inner nature for as long as Inaho had known him. By the time the brunet had become interested enough to want to know him better, Slaine had withdrawn so far into himself that there was nothing Inaho could do to find his way past the other man's walls. He had remained a mystery forever out of reach, and before he had even become aware of what was happening, he had fallen for the glimpses of character forever hidden behind those walls.

Now, however…

Impossibly, the Slaine of the present was like an open book. Was this a reversion to a personality before the war, or perhaps even before he was brought to Mars? But whatever the case was, the blond was no longer so closed off from him, or so it seemed. Now the problem was Inaho's own taciturn nature. Could he surmount his own social shortcomings, or were they doomed to misunderstandings yet again?

At the moment, however, he had a more pressing concern.

"There isn't a need to take our representative seriously," he blandly informed the new Hunter. "He rarely says anything useful."

The almost horrified expression Slaine turned his way was priceless, even more than the stifled chortle from the Warlock representative at the opposite end of the table. Ikora Rey quickly faced away from them, but Inaho had no trouble imagining her amused smirk. She had reminded him vaguely of Captain Magbaredge when he had first arrived in the City, but her bantering with her old friend had been nothing like the interaction between the Captain and her XO Mizusaki. Much more sarcastic, for one thing. And he had to admit that Cayde handled his biting remarks better than most.

"I'll have you know," the older Hunter began with a wagging of an upraised index finger, "That I am quite eloquent with bullets."

He turned back to Inaho, his implied smirk never diminishing. "Now, if you're done bustin' my chops, there are things out there in need of shooting. So if ya don't want to do that, ya can always have my job instead an' stare at this map all day."

The Nightstalker ignored him, turning to Slaine without quite meeting his eyes. As frequently as his expressionlessness was complained about, he couldn't help but be concerned that the observant young Hunter would somehow be able to see through it. That, and he needed to project his illusion of apathy...at least until they were outside.

"Follow me," he ordered a bit too brusquely, instantly regretting that he doubtlessly came off no differently than he had in their first meeting centuries ago. But Vanguard Hall wasn't the place to start trying to explain himself, so he turned and wordlessly made his exit and could only hope his charge would follow.

Δ  
Δ  
Λ

Once they were in the courtyard and safely out of earshot, Inaho allowed a barely audible sigh to escape. It was the first time in a very long time that he worried about what someone else might have thought of him.

"I...apologise," he started, musing briefly on how he should try to express himself. He couldn't very well say that, while he respected Cayde, he was frequently annoyed by the Exo. "I find our representative to be occasionally troublesome."

To his surprise, the towhead startled. "Ah...it's ok, I was just afraid...I mean, I'm sorry for being a bother."

A wave of relief washed over him, and the brunet could feel the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile that he had probably not expressed since his previous life. Had he been anyone else, he was certain he would have been grinning like an idiot. Sure, Slaine was still putting up a wall, but the lack of hostility was definitely a considerable improvement. Now, he could at least _talk_ to the other man.

"It's no trouble," Inaho tried to reassure him. "I don't mind the assignment."

He always did have a talent for understatement, but he couldn't very well speak the entire truth; that he had secretly longed for this opportunity for _years_.

Slaine's relief was nearly palpable. "Oh...good. It just seemed like having to be my mentor was bothersome…"

The towhead's face suddenly heated up with a blush in what Inaho guessed was embarrassment. Inwardly, Inaho filed the memory away; he had never even considered the possibility that the person he had only ever seen as powerful could express such vulnerability. It only served to awaken his protective instincts once more.

"N-not that I'm not grateful…" Slaine continued, oblivious to Inaho's inner workings. "I just imagine it has to be a hassle to have to go over basics all over again..."

The blond seemed to deflate once he realised he was babbling, entirely ignorant of how cute his mentor found his behaviour. It was another side of his charge that he had never before seen, and he welcomed it. Cherished it, even.

"S-sorry. Just...thank you."

Inaho's faint smile impossibly persisted…not that he was making an effort to stop. He probably should have made an effort to, as it tended to unsettle anyone who knew him. Still, it seemed to relax Slaine, which only made his expression persist.

"You're welcome," he replied easily.

The short corridor he led Slaine down opened up into the hangar bay, and his jumpship soon came into view after a brief request from the shipwright. Fortunately, Amanda Holliday treated him much the same as always with only so much as an uplifted eyebrow at his charge. Inaho was grateful; he was not in the mood for another round of disquieting stares just because he had company for once.

The russet-eyed Guardian nearly smirked at the other Guardian's fleeting disapproving glance. _So he still hates orange_ , he thought with some amusement.

That amusement wavered, however, at the realisation that Slaine's dislike of the colour apparently had little – if anything – to do with him. In all likelihood, he really did simply hate it rather than associating it with the kataphrackt his nemesis had piloted so long ago. He wasn't entirely certain how to feel about that fact, whether to be happy that all of Slaine's bitter memories had been effectively wiped away and that he didn't hate him any more or that Inaho himself had been forgotten. But there was little that could be done about it as it was, so there was no point in dwelling on it. Really, he should just be grateful at the opportunity to start over.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked as casually as he could, thankful he voice came out in its usual monotone.

"Huh?" Slaine was apparently startled by the question. "I just...um. It certainly stands out with that, ah, colour."

Inaho felt the corners of his mouth quirk upward in spite of himself. "You dislike like it?"

The apologetic look that answered him threatened to overtake his usual neutral expression even further, an urge he quickly suppressed. Slaine would get the wrong idea of his amusement.

"It's just...well, it's kind of garish, don't you think? At least, by itself."

That seemed to imply that he didn't mind the colour if it was combined with others, but the russet-eyed Hunter forced himself to shrug and file it away for later.  He had since learned that too much immediate prying tended to bother other people.

"Repainting has always been a low priority compared to improving function," he remarked matter-of-factly.

It was partially true, if not even the main reason. Even nostalgia hadn't been behind his decision. No, it was a way of holding on to the hope that his old rival would somehow recognise him and, if nothing else, repeatedly try to shoot him in the Crucible. Since their deaths wouldn't be permanent in the live-fire training exercise which had become a game of bloodsport for various Guardians, perhaps he could have vented out some of his frustration. Maybe he would stop hating Inaho a little less, then…

The open, embarrassed expression he got in return, however, reminded him that those memories has been lost to Slaine. It was as if their bitter war had never happened, and the life the former Count Saazbaum Troyard lived had not crushed whatever spirit he'd had.

Inaho couldn't help but hope those memories _remained_ lost.

"It's _yours_? I didn't...I'm sorry if I...I didn't meant to insult you…" the young Hunter flailed helplessly.

In the past, Inaho had often struggled to express himself. At this moment, however, he struggled not to betray his amusement.

"I'm not offended. As I said, customisation beyond function has been less important than other tasks."

The pale-haired Guardian visibly relaxed. "I guess...you're focused on efficiency? That makes sense...you seem to be objective-oriented."

Inaho had realised during the war that his rival had been the closest anyone had ever come to matching him in intelligence and observation, the only time in his life he had felt the overwhelming urge to compete against someone which had lit a fire in him that had not been matched since. But even then, he hadn't realised just how much. The brunet blinked owlishly, staring at his charge with a newfound sense of wonder. Few had observed that his brusque ways had mostly to do with the simple desire to be as efficient as possible to meet his goals as quickly as possible. It had made his military career much thornier than it otherwise would have been.

Not that he'd had much of a choice at the time; he had only agreed to military service to protect his only remaining family and friends. He lacked both now, but the Vanguard had been a considerable improvement, if for no other reason that Guardians were not child soldiers.

At least, not technically. Physically, the brunet appeared to have been revived as a young man of eighteen, but his mind was much older. Similarly, Slaine appeared to be roughly his own physical age. The problem was that he might have regressed mentally with the lack of memories.

"Do you know how old you are?" He asked, belatedly realising that the question had been too abrupt when the blond projected confusion. Not to mention it was probably rude.

"I'm afraid not," Slaine admitted with a rueful smile. If the question bothered him, it didn't show in his expression. "All I can remember is my name."

The blond's smile fell as something seemed to dawn on him, and he became instantly apologetic, rubbing the back of his neck in what might have been chagrin. "Oh...please forgive my rudeness. I...didn't even introduce myself properly, did I? I'm Slaine Troyard, it's nice to meet you."

This time, he couldn't keep the smile off his face even if he wanted to.

"Kaizuka Inaho. It's nice to meet you as well, Slaine Troyard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear that I wrote the Vanguard's parts before the trailer...all the NPCs have very distinct personalities, so it's not too difficult to write them in short bursts. Zavala has always seemed to be the type to give a rousing let's-go-out-and-save-humanity speech while Cayde...yeah. "THERE WILL BE A TONNE OF LOOT!"
> 
> Also, the starting chapters are probably going to be a lot shorter than the ones in The Impossible Machines, at least until combat starts. (I did say there was going to be some adventure – this is the Destiny-verse, after all – just not as almost entirely action-driven as my other work and a standard ship instead of a broship) Similarly, while Impossible Machines is going to remain within the timeline of The Taken King and the start of Rise of Iron, I haven't decided yet if I'll be getting into the Destiny 2 storyline here. So Ghaul (OK...Gary) might just make an appearance in September. Stay tuned!
> 
> Intro song is actually a cover, but the Legendary Stardust Cowboy original is...not to my liking. (Early psychobilly isn't exactly to everyone's tastes.) But as Lemrina's English VA agrees, there's never a bad time for David Bowie.


	3. Vision of Confluence

_Hello how did you find me_  
_How did you find me_  
_Where have you been hiding_  
_I know I know_  
_That you remind me remind me_  
_This fire inside me_  
_Feels like we met somewhere before_  
_Saw you my heart just hit the floor_  
_This time I'm following the signs_  
_This moment could flash before your eyes_  
  
_So if we just can't get it right_  
_Then maybe we'll try in another life_

-[Markus Schulz feat. Delacey, "Destiny (Morgan Page Remix)](https://youtu.be/XNLaMMLfcNM)"

 

* * *

" _What you have seen will mark you forever._ "

\- description of the Vision of Confluence scout rifle

* * *

Inaho was certainly not the kind of person to laugh out loud. At most, a breathy chuckle might theoretically escape him once in a decade. Since being revived as a Guardian, nearly everyone he had come to know had yet to see him so much as smile even slightly; no doubt the one which was currently persisting – likely to make his facial muscles sore for days afterwards – would have earned disbelieving stares from just about the entire Tower population were they to have seen it.

Yet, the moment he had laid eyes on Slaine's own jumpship as it came up the lift, the sight nearly drew the sort of reaction from him that would have been a bark of ironic laughter from a different person.

_A Sky Carrier. Of course it would be._

He hadn't seen anything even remotely Versian-made since his resurrection, and its looming presence almost seemed like a warning to the brunet Nightstalker. If it had been a reminder, it was an unnecessary one. Inaho was no longer a frightened teenager and Slaine Troyard was no longer his enemy...although it remained to be seen if he would accept becoming his friend. He had no right to wish for anything beyond that. Regardless, he was grateful for the chance alone. If he was ultimately rejected...in truth, he deserved no less.

Inaho was pulled out of his thoughts – which had taken an admittedly pessimistic turn – in a rather unexpected way. He was well-aware that most failed to take notice of his micro-expressions, and once more he was almost amazed by his charge's sharp eye.

"Um...I suppose it _is_ a little weird-looking," Slaine admitted in what could only be response to his mentor's subtle surprise. True, he had misinterpreted said expression, but the fact that he had noticed at all was remarkable.

"It actually handles really well for something so ancient,” the blond continued. “And Miss Holliday patched it up so it flies even better than after my Ghost first found it."

It was a good thing the shipwright was out of earshot; Inaho had no trouble picturing Amanda pinching Slaine's cheek and drawling about the “adorable lil' Kinderguardian”. While he suspected that observing the green-eyed Bladedancer's reaction to that would be highly entertaining, he wanted to keep to his timetable.

"How it flies is more important than how it looks," Inaho replied nonchalantly. And because he just couldn't resist, "It looks like a bat."

Not that he had provoked him _on purpose_ necessarily, but there was something about Slaine's reactions which bothered him now that he had given it some thought. The blond's memories might have been missing, but perhaps there was something in his subconscious that remembered something terrible, and the tow-head seemed to be prepared for the worst. That he had suffered in his previous life had become apparent to Inaho once he had finally been able to study the other young man more closely, but Slaine had refused to speak about his past in their previous lives.

Yet, if he could manage to get him to react more openly, Inaho might now be in a position to do something to help him. Even if he didn't necessarily understand his reactions completely, it wasn't as if _this_ war demanded all of his attention, so now he could focus on Slaine. Inaho might have been one of the few Hunters with the gifts to become a Nightstalker, and Cayde might consider him one of their best, but he was hardly the only one. It wasn't as if the Vanguard was resting all their hopes on him alone. Not that it had troubled him at the time of the Second Earth-Mars War – as long as he could keep Yuki and his friends from harm, he had been fine with it – but now he could concentrate on the boy he had come to care for.

But to his mild surprise, the young Guardian simply gave him a strange look Inaho couldn't decipher.

"...How do you figure? The wings are all wrong, for one thing."

The response hadn't been what Inaho was expecting...but in truth, this was better. For one thing, Slaine wasn't offended and therefore angry at him. Second, this was probably a better opportunity to probe his thought processes. Too often, the fallen Count had refused to play to his full potential in their chess matches when Inaho had visited him in prison, too withdrawn into his misery to so much as make an effort. And what little he had gleaned from combat alone wasn't nearly enough.

"What does it look like to you?" he ventured.

Slaine seemed taken aback momentarily before frowning thoughtfully and glancing back up at the retrofitted jumpship. It was as if he hadn't expected the question, and Inaho could only hope he hadn't again said something that others found strange.

"Huh...” he mused. “A gull, maybe? A gull approaching the sea for a landing."

Once again, there was the urge to express amusement at the strange and all-too apropos twist. Fortunately, Inaho managed to suppress it, although the now-persistent smile was a lost cause.

 _Maybe he'll be less offended by that nickname_ , he considered. Seylum had mentioned his fascination with birds all those years ago, so perhaps...

"Would you prefer to be called 'Gull', then?"

Slaine's expression was, while clearly not bothered, seemed to suggest that his mentor had said something odd. The dark-haired Guardian couldn't help but hope he hadn't made a misstep in spite of his best efforts.

Fortunately, the blond only seemed puzzled. "You mean as a call sign? And...what would I even call you because of your ship? Orange?"

Inaho's smile widened a fraction. He was _definitely_ going to wake up tomorrow with aching facial muscles. Yet somehow, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. "I don't mind."

The blond sighed, shaking his head. "I was joking. It's too ridiculous."

"It's true. I don't mind," Inaho replied with a somewhat forced shrug, putting considerable effort into appearing nonchalant. To be called by that old nickname was simply too amusing, and he was already in the best mood he had ever been in since reviving...possibly even before that.

Alas, Slaine didn't seem particularly amused by the idea, though Inaho was not about to enlighten him and risk triggering something.

"I think it's better if I just stick to your name," the tow-head replied with a slight wrinkle of his nose. The expression was certainly doing nothing to deter Inaho from finding his mannerisms to be cute. It was an strange feeling; never before would he have regarded another person in such a way.

"That is, um…" Slaine hesitated. "Should I use your first or last name?"

It was more proper, in truth, to go by his surname, but the russet-eyed Hunter had never been one to blindly follow convention and he wasn't about to start now. His friends had never called him by anything other than his first name once they had become closer, so it logically made sense to start there. Or so he insisted to himself.

"Inaho is fine. That is my given name."

"Ok...I-Inaho."

The simple use of his personal name really should not have sent the shiver up his spine that it did, but he had spent too many times wishing he had heard it just once in his previous life in a friendly manner. The wishful thinking turned the sound into too much of a thrill upon finally hearing it. It made him wonder: when was the last time he had ever felt so _alive_? Probably not since his sister had hugged him for the last time, before either of them had realised that their lives had been abruptly ended.

Inaho noticed another moment of unguarded vulnerability as Slaine blushed, fidgeted slightly, and averted his eyes; the second time he had ever displayed such a thing. _No_ , he corrected himself. _There was one other time_.

In their previous lives, when a broken and miserable man who seemed years older than he actually was sat across the table from him in prison. Inaho had revealed his reason for saving him and keeping him alive, the final request from Seylum. The walls Slaine had built up around himself toppled – albeit temporarily – and he had sobbed openly like a child, desperately wiping at tears that only continued to fall.

Inaho had walked away then, giving him the privacy and some semblance of dignity that he believed Slaine would have wished for. It had probably only hurt more to have broken down in front of his hated enemy, and the brunet lacked the kind of social skills to properly comfort him either way. He still didn't know what he could have done then...but that hadn't stopped him from later thinking that he should have handled it differently somehow. Nor had it stopped him from wishing, years later, that he had been able to offer a more personable solace.

There was little use for chastising himself for it, however. Regret couldn't be helped, and he had acted in the way he felt was best for the situation, but the fact of the matter was that the past could not be changed even if he had erred. Only the future truly mattered, now...and he had the chance to make things as right as they possibly could be.

He might have pushed too far too fast, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. "Is it acceptable to you that I call you Slaine, then?"

Blue-green eyes snapped back to him with a small amount of hand-flailing. "O-of course!"

Yes, Inaho was beginning to think that, in spite of such things being illogical, miracles might just exist, after all. Perhaps it was nonsense, perhaps just wishful thinking...but then again, perhaps having a little bit of faith might not be such a foolish indulgence.

 

Δ  
Δ  
Λ

 

In a way, it was a relief to be back in his jumpship. Inaho had never before felt the urge to simply grab someone to shake some sense into said person, not even Yuki at her most emotional. For one, it was not physically possible to make people more logical merely by shaking them. There was no point even if he'd had the urge in the first place. Second, it would hardly make him feel better.

Slaine had changed all that. His objections to Inaho's choice of destination would have been acceptable were it not for what they were based on; not the fact that Venus was admittedly a dangerous place, but the blond continued to undersell his own capabilities.

“ _I-I don't think I'm anywhere near ready_ ,” the blond had insisted with a weak smile. “ _I don't mind waiting for you at the Tower if you need to do something there. R-really, you can go on without me, I don't mind_.”

Under normal circumstances, the second planet from Sol would have indeed been a poor choice to begin showing a new Guardian the proverbial ropes, a world that Vanguard typically discouraged even some of the more experienced Guardians from exploring due to its heightened dangers. Following the devastating Battle of Twilight Gap where factions of the aliens called the Fallen united in an effort to overrun the City's protective walls, good deal of information had been gathered on the insect-like scavenger-pirates and their individual Houses. Ultimately, the invasion forces were successfully driven back, but at the cost of hundreds of Guardian lives.

Among the known Houses, the House of Devils on Earth and the House of Exile on the Moon were troublesome enough. But the House of Winter had claimed the sulphur-yellow world as their base, and those particular Fallen were especially brutal.

And then there were the Vex, which were a whole other headache entirely. The brass-like, cybernetic lifeforms' habit of manipulating space-time was not only a physics-defying puzzle he had yet to untangle, but a nuisance every time he centred on one with his sniper rifle. It wasn't so much that he'd miss as shot as the bizarre mechanical creatures would fold space and reappear several metres away from their initial points. Inaho had since learned to calculate where one would reappear and began aiming there instead, firing where it would go rather than where it was at any given time.

Sticky grenades tended to work especially well; it was always satisfying even to him when a Goblin – one of their foot-soldiers – would teleport away only to explode upon re-entry. But he was loath to use one on a solitary target if it wasn't going to re-materialise near others and tended to conserve them for clearing out large groups.

Unfortunately, both groups of alien enemies stood between the pair and the ruins of the Ishtar Academy. During the Golden Age when it was founded by the Ishtar Collective – the group of scientists dedicated to exploring the ruins eerily similar to those found on the Moon which had existed on Venus for millennia – Inaho had not been especially interested in their realm of study until the builders of those ruins had been discovered. The Vex themselves were much more interesting, particularly their mysterious abilities and strange technology. Although dealing with them was an annoyance, each battle was a valuable experience if he could manage to bring back some salvage.

The problem was that he didn't trust even most seasoned Guardians with a proper ruin dive. Or rather, few seemed interested in exploration in lieu of completing their bounties and returning to the Tower as quickly as possible. But not only did he completely trust the blond's skills, Inaho was confident the Kinderguardian would find them just as fascinating as he did. Ancient books could still be found throughout the Academy, many still legible possibly due to Golden Age preservation techniques. Admittedly, his primary motivation was simply to study Slaine's expression at the mere sight of all the old books in one of the many libraries, recalling the few times in prison when there had been a flicker of life in the blue-green eyes as he was given a new book to read.

The russet-eyed Hunter hadn't wanted to spoil the surprise, but keeping that information from the blond had made convincing him difficult. And he couldn't very well admit that he had faced him in combat before and fully trusted the new Hunter to be able to handle himself.

In the end, he could only ask that Slaine trust him...which, to be fair, was considerably easier without his memories.

Still, there was little reason for the newer Guardian to doubt himself. Inaho could plainly see the effortlessness with which he guided his jumpship in an elegantly-curving path, the sleek black hull contrasting with the background of the massive spherical shape of the Traveller behind him. The great, mysterious presence continued to be another puzzle the brunet had yet to solve...not that he had given up on trying. But even its secrets remained a distant second to finding his older sister and his friends again – no matter how long it took for him to find them – even if his hope had waned at times as the years went by. Despair might be a foolish choice, but now he could finally understand that it wasn't quite so straightforward as simply choosing _not_ to be dragged down into it.

It wasn't long after Slaine had left for Freehold that Inaho felt like kicking himself for being as cavalier about it as he had been during their final battle. It had taken the blond's return to rekindle his own hopes for finding his loved ones...and to start over again with a person who should have never been his enemy.

Right now, said former enemy was demonstrating that, in spite of his memories having been lost, his incredible skills as a pilot remained. It was enjoyable in its own right, watching him guide an ancient craft that would have flown awkwardly at best in anyone else's hands. Nevertheless, that enjoyment was tainted with a bitterness that the pilot in question doubted many of his own capabilities, likely due to the physical and psychological abuse he had endured throughout his previous life. It was so ingrained, in fact, that even now Inaho could detect its traces even after the memories causing it had been wiped away.

Inaho frowned as he doubted his own capacity to provide Slaine with what he needed. Did he have what was necessary to help him finally move on? Psychology had never been his strong suit, and he still struggled to understand human interaction. It was better for him to not remember at all than have no way of dealing with his issues, to say nothing of the obvious pain such memories would cause.

Or was that truly better? Was his trauma buried so deeply that traces remained even now, even if the tow-head had no idea why he reacted the way he did? It was already unreasonable, this desire to protect him from his past, considering they were once more fighting in a war neither of them had done anything to instigate. There would be more death and suffering as they fought to protect the remnants of humankind; would shielding Slaine truly be a benefit, in the long run?

Yes, he finally decided. Or, at least that would be less suffering for the tow-head to be forced to deal with. In the meantime, there were wonders to show him which might bring a little much-needed happiness into his new life.

“Send the co-ordinates to his Ghost,” Inaho ordered his own as he entered said co-ordinates into the jumpship's navigation system. The Headlands within Ishtar Sink had been deemed safe enough to plant a TransMat beacon, meaning they could probably drop down without an immediate greeting of gunfire before setting their jumpships in a low orbit. Fortunately, landing was at least not among his list of aggravations he had to deal with.

“Are you sure he won't get lost?” the diminutive artificial lifeform queried in response. “He's a little green, as I'm sure you've noticed.”

“I'm positive,” the dark-haired Guardian answered distractedly, already planning on how they were going to get through whatever Fallen were in their path. In the event one of their skiffs decided to unload several platoons on them, at the very worst he could fire off a few Shadowshots from his Void Bow to keep them in place long enough to make a strategic retreat.

“You're unusually confident in someone else's skills,” the Ghost shot back. “Is there something you're not telling me about this guy?”

“I knew him once...a long time ago,” Inaho continued to answer while only paying half attention, only to realise too late that he had admitted more than he wanted to. He might have trusted his Ghost, but there were some things he preferred to keep to himself. Too late to regret it now, though.

“Oh, really?” his Ghost drawled. “Did you plan on telling him, or would that sound too creepy?”

“I'm not going to tell him,” the Hunter cut him off a little more testily than he had intended. His Ghost knew better than anyone that he would simply refuse to talk about things he had no wish to talk about.

“OK, OK...I got it,” the AI soothed. “You're in luck; many Guardians never recover their memories. Even if you ever want him to remember anything, he probably never will.”

And if it was within his power, Inaho intended to keep it that way.

 

Δ  
Δ  
Λ

 

Backlit by the sun cresting over the horizon, Venus loomed below, its sulphur skies only just coming into view. By Inaho’s estimation, dawn was just breaking over the Headlands, which would make their trek easier...or at least make it less difficult. Though their Ghosts would helpfully light their pathways, both the Fallen and the Vex were naturally capable of seeing in the dark, which it would put the pair at a disadvantage with their own reduced sight.

Yet, even without enemy presence, it was simply a nuisance to guide a Sparrow down a darkened, ruined road which had not seen proper maintained for centuries. For some unknown reason, no one had yet thought to mount headlamps on the hoverbikes, something Inaho had been meaning to ask Amanda about eventually. Then again, she seemed to be more interested in building them for pure speed; lights were of little use on a Sparrow racetrack.

It was after he had ordered his Ghost to TransMat his vehicle in that the the russet-eyed Hunter belatedly realised he had forgotten to ask Slaine if the shipwright had issued him his own Sparrow. He could only curse his own oversight; mistakes like that were rare for him, as someone who preferred meticulous planning to his more spontaneous peers. Far too eager to get to the Academy ruins to gauge his companion's reactions, he had rushed more than he otherwise would have, and needlessly so. Impatience, it seemed, was not an urge he was accustomed to.

As luck would have it, he need not have worried. Moments after Inaho's Sparrow appeared, Slaine summoned his own and waited, probably for orders from his mentor. Silently, he was relieved; while it would have been entirely possible to hike to the Academy on foot, he would rather have not. Though rather than dwelling on his uncharacteristic mistake, he made a mental note to be even more thorough than he usually was from here on out. Being distracted was not merely a nuisance in the wilds, it was potentially deadly...and there were few things that would put him behind schedule more than death.

Miraculously, they soon arrived at the steps of the Academy without incident following a brief ride. Whether the usual ground troops of the House of Winter had been forced to retreat or were killed off either by Vex or other Guardians who had passed through the area not long ago, none were present to scream in their guttural voices and fire wildly at the intruders into their territory. Their absence tempted a false sense of security, though Inaho knew better than to let his guard down until they were inside a secure place within the campus. Nevertheless, he found himself grateful for the uncharacteristic lull in the usual violence long enough to appreciate the muffled gasp behind him which had made his trouble worth it.

His companion on this particular venture was neither too complacent nor trigger-happy, following him with the typical silence of an experienced Bladedancer. But once he had seen the ancient ruins, it seemed that Slaine was unable to contain his wonder. Centuries ago, the ruins had been the very cutting edge of architecture and technology – streamlined and efficient – boasting of the research being conducted by the Collective. In the atriums and gardens, statues depicting winged love goddesses from which the continents of Venus took their names hefted laurel wreaths towards the skies. Now, the varied plant-life imported from Earth dominated the landscape and overtook the ruins themselves, reminiscent of hidden jungle temples, clinging to any space they could find purchase and take root. In certain places, blue lava vented through broken marble and concrete jutting up from ruined pathways and floors.

These ruins had impressed even Inaho when he had first laid eyes on them; the sight must have been considerably more awe-inspiring for the more emotional, expressive blond. It was regrettable that he was unable to see the reaction; Inaho had never seen anything beyond rage, grief, or a wry mask. The brunet could only carefully bide his time...if he had played his metaphorical cards right, he would have his chance soon enough.

It was only once they had reached the ruins of an antechamber leading into one of the many inner libraries that he finally dared to draw back the hood of his cloak and remove his helmet.

“We'll be safe enough in here,” Inaho explained, finally turning back to his charge. “We'll be able to set up camp in this location, if necessary.”

Slaine's voice betrayed his uncertainty, even if his expression remained hidden behind the visor of his own helmet.

“If...if you're sure,” he replied hesitantly before relenting, mirroring his mentor's actions, and Inaho was almost stunned. Apparently, without memories of his bitter experiences, the other man could be rather trusting. Foolishly, he couldn't help but experience a small surge of happiness at the fact.

Rainforest plant life which had escaped cultivation had overgrown much of the antechamber, with vines descending from the half-caved ceiling that cast most of it in darkness. Without a need for prompt, his Ghost activated its lighting system, enabling them to reach a pair of heavy doors constructed from composite and made to look like stained wood. The Nightstalker angled himself as he pushed past the doors to be able to see the anticipated reaction he had been hoping for.

He was not disappointed. The cracked skylights perfectly illuminated the myriad rows of once-sleek shelving units of ancient books and assorted media, and the open expression of naked wonder on Slaine's face took his breath away. Inaho couldn't keep himself from staring, but fortunately, the blond was too engrossed in the sight to notice.

“It..it's incredible,” Slaine whispered almost reverently. “I never even thought something like this could exist now...”

The Bladedancer's gaze snapped back to Inaho with an open expression of eagerness, like a child presented with a room-full of toys and told he could play with however many he wanted.

“How long can we stay? Can we pick anything we like? How much can we bring back?” he fired off rapidly.

Inaho was typically unresponsive to the smiles of others, but this time he couldn't help but smile in return. In truth, it was little more than a slight uplift of the corners of his mouth as he attempted to answer all the questions, but it was much more than usual.

“We have the day. Part of our duties are collecting artefacts and ancient records, so it is entirely up to you what to bring back. Take whatever interests you...your Ghost will store everything via TransMat.”

However, the resulting expression of joy induced an unexpected reaction in the brunet. Never would he have seen such an expression in their previous lives; Slaine's tragic fate appeared to have crushed whatever spirit had existed in him. Though there had perhaps been some gentleness to his personality naturally, a life of abuse at the hands of the Versians and the subsequent quashing of all his hopes had made his current vitality impossible. Inaho's own life had been filled with hardships, but those were nothing compared to what the tow-head had endured.

Inaho had done what he had to do for the sake of those he cared about – as had Slaine – but it hardly meant his rival should have needlessly suffered for his decisions. Had he only known years ago that the green-eyed Hunter would have come to mean as much to him as his friends and family...

It was probably the most emotional he had been in centuries...yet he couldn't permit himself to express his true feelings even if he was capable of it. Inaho already had an obligation to watch over the newer Guardian; if he didn't get himself together, undoing the progress he had made so far and potentially driving Slaine away would be the least of his worries. Now more than ever he needed to be able to rely on his logic if he was going to properly protect his charge.

“I'll make a final sweep of the area as a precaution,” he announced as he hastily replaced his helmet. It was impossible not to notice Slaine's startled expression, and it almost made him change his mind. But he needed to gather his wits before he did something he would once again regret. Still, it wouldn't hurt to reassure the other Guardian first.

“Don't worry, I don't anticipate my patrol taking long, and I should return soon. If it becomes dangerous, hide and wait for me.”

Fortunately, that seemed to soothe the neophyte Guardian, who nodded silently in response. Slaine's mood appeared to have dampened a little without company, but he offered Inaho a soft smile that had a devastating effect on his resolve. It was just as well that his willpower was resolute enough to earn the respect of even the Vanguard, else he would have given in to stay by the tow-head's side as he explored the library. Instead, he silently slipped out through an adjacent corridor at the opposite end of the library, opening up into the ruins of an amphitheatre encased entirely in inky blackness.

Light from his Ghost flared to life again, and the diminutive AI predictably made his dissatisfaction known. “Of course, no patrol would be complete without a stroll through spooky old buildings in complete darkness where something is sure to ambush us,” it quipped nervously.

In spite of the Ghost protestations, Inaho's decision to make a final sweep of the area ended up being the correct one for more than one reason.

Through the black void of the cavernous amphitheatre, unsettling orbs of unblinking red light appeared in the distance, drawing ever closer in rhythmic patterns. Heavy metallic stomping accompanied the lights in time with how they moved, only pausing when groups of them disappeared only to reappear closer to him still. Soft electronic sounds seemed to permeate the dark gloom, almost animalistic in nature.

The voice of his Ghost was laden with as much worry as sarcasm while Inaho silently took aim at the nearest red light with his scout rifle.

“Great...the Vex. Just what we need right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TIME FOR BATTOL. It's a miracle I managed to get anything done after getting sucked into Destiny 2, but at the same time it's been inspiring to write more. 
> 
> Also, I realised I messed up a bit of canon in the previous chapter, but rather than go back and correct it I decided to amend it in this one.
> 
> Lastly, I feel that as I've started getting into the lore-heavy parts, I should restate my intent for the lore in Destiny, which is to integrate it into the story as it's encountered. In Destiny 1, very little of it is in the actual game and exists in Grimoire cards which are only accessible outside the game, and it is entirely possible to read them on [Ishtar Collective](http://www.ishtar-collective.net/) if you would like to. That said, familiarity won't be necessary to understand the story. My intention for those unfamiliar with the game is to be able to read it as if you're playing the game itself and see it unfold as the story progresses. 
> 
> All you really need to know is that the Vex are basically [murder robots with good taste in music](https://youtu.be/-ZR3C-Ye1zw), and [Inaho's ship really is that colour of orange](https://www.destinypedia.com/Arcadia_Class_Jumpship). (No, really)


	4. The Next Big Thing

_Lost in the maze of the back streets I struggled_  
_Fighting my way through a whole lot of trouble_  
_Too many people were talking without moving their mouths_  
_Smell the gaze, smell the lights, ever wondered_  
_'bout the lies that have stolen my thunder_  
_In the haze of my mind all the wires were crossed_  
_I love you but I'm lost_  
  
_All we needed was some time_  
_I love you but I'm lost_  
[Tears For Fears - “I Love You But I'm Lost”](https://youtu.be/8RxlpQTgqO4)

* * *

" _Actually, I'm already pretty famous on Mars, so_ ...." - description of The Next Big Thing shotgun

* * *

The mahogany-haired scientist – a particularly meddlesome girl – folded her arms and regarded him with bright amber eyes and a stern expression.

“If I have to see any more forlorn stares into space from you, I'm going to go crazy. Just write to him already, tell him you changed your mind. Or at least _tell him_ you...”

He cut her off in an admittedly brusque manner, though he had quickly learned such gestures wouldn't fool her at all. Originally, he had thought he'd hidden it well enough, but he quickly learned that it hadn't been enough to evade her hawkish gaze. At this point, his act was more out of pride than to successfully hide anything.

“I _can't_ ,” he insisted, and not because he doubted she'd find where to send anything he might write. She was that damned persistent. “I'd just be dragging him into this and I've already screwed up his life enough to last centuries. I can't keep relying on him to bail me out...that's why I agreed to come here in the first place. He deserves to have his life back.”

The stubborn girl wasn't budging. Obstinate...not entirely unlike the person he was considering, actually.

“What if he _wants_ to help you? Let him make that decision for himself, and stop acting like this is only your burden alone. You know what happened the last time you tried to protect someone by removing their choices.”

His eyes narrowed at her. One more thing she had seen through was the official story about him; she knew full well what he had done and his reasons for it...probably by hacking into her grandfather's databases, he suspected. His reply was almost petulant, as if to let her know that had been a particularly low blow.

“This is totally different. I'm choosing _not_ to involve him, and I'm not threatening his home or family this time. It's my responsibility to deal with my own problems on my own.”

It still didn't seem to get through. He should probably deal with this, though not in a way that was going to satisfy her if she knew he had no intention of following through.

“OK, OK,” he made a show of relenting with a sigh. “I'll write a letter. Happy?”

“Not until you send it. Of course, I'd be happier if you let him help you out, but we both know you're too much of a hard-headed bastard for that to ever happen.”

He was going to have to figure out how to make it look like he had rather than just writing a letter he was never going to send....though he had to admit that at least this might give him some sense of closure.

* * *

_Seven Centuries Later_

Even in the complete absence of memories with which to appreciate the sight, Slaine could tell the library within the Ishtar Academy was an incredible treasure. When he first laid eyes on the ruined yet impressive outer facade amidst the riot of jungle colours, it brought to mind images of massive sculptures of vine-covered human heads in elaborate headdresses and stone alcoves split in two by thick tree trunks, but those images vanished as mysteriously as they had appeared when he tried to concentrate on them.

 _Are these memories from my past life?_ he wondered, as useless as the train of thought probably was.

But perhaps even more mysteriously, he had felt a vague presence in those images, as if he had seen these things with someone.

 _Someone...older, maybe that was something from my childhood?_ he silently pondered.

The presence had seemed much taller than he had been from his perspective, but just who that elusive presence might have been, he couldn’t say. But along with the images themselves, the more he tried to focus on the fleeting presence, the quicker it slipped through his proverbial fingers as if they had been no more than grains of sand.

 _Was that a memory or just a figment of my imagination? And if it_ was _a memory, who had that person been? A parent or another family member, probably. I wonder if that person had shown me something like this..._

Nevertheless, he refrained from dwelling on those questions to admire the sight in front of him or contemplate the elusive presence in his mind. Being out in the open was a generally dangerous proposition especially for a neophyte Guardian, regardless of how dangerous a given enemy was. In small numbers, the scavenger-pirates of the Fallen were little trouble; Slaine might have been new to being a Guardian, but somehow he was well-versed in combat. That said, he wasn't confident he could take on more than six of them at a time and only if he wasn't distracted by the scenery.

He doubted his 'babysitter' would have had any such difficulty in that situation – clearly a seasoned veteran of this war – and Slaine had no trouble imagining that handling greater numbers was an everyday occurrence. However, the tow-head had no desire to be more of a burden than he already was. Not when Inaho had clearly gone out of his way already for him and certainly must have been exercising considerable patience with him.

The neophyte Hunter had been uncertain at first when his new mentor had appeared not long after Cayde-6 had called him to Vanguard Hall. Slaine had concealed his presence back then, and insisted to himself that it was because he didn't want to be a bother. And he was sure he would have been; Inaho had seemed to be in a sour mood when he first arrived. Neither his impassive expression nor his tone of voice had given anything away, but there was something about his body language which had somehow suggested annoyance and even a hint of impatience. True, the camouflage would give out eventually, but perhaps if he lessened his presence somehow, the put-out Nightstalker wouldn't be so disgruntled by the chore of looking after him.

All that had changed once said camouflage finally lapsed. The annoyed, impatient air dissipated just as quickly, replaced by an alertness and disquieting stare that had the blond fidgeting in discomfort. There had been a flicker of varying emotions in the russet eyes, though the one Slaine noticed just before Inaho’s expression had conspicuously shut down might have been sorrow or regret.

 _Why?_ he had wondered at the time. _Do I remind him of someone he's lost?_

Surely that was the case; he couldn’t imagine that the other Hunter would have mentioned it had they known each other in their past lives. But whatever his reasoning was, the dark-haired Guardian's entire demeanour had changed...subtly, but it _had_ changed. And it wasn't as if he had been imagining things, either; Cayde's amused reaction had been enough that there was no room for the tow-head to second-guess himself.

No, that had decidedly _not_ been Inaho's usual reaction, if the Vanguard representatives were anything to go by.

That was to say nothing of the strange yet comfortable – _familiar_ – feeling he was getting, as if they had indeed known each other once before. Moreover, he felt the other Guardian could be trusted, though he had no basis for such a gut reaction.

Still, Slaine wanted to avoid wearing out his welcome and refrained from demanding to know just _why_ his mentor chose to bring him to Venus rather than patrol one of Earth's open zones. As infested as Old Russia was with Fallen, their forces were stragglers that were easy enough for neophyte Guardians to deal with on their own. The patrols there could almost be said to be mere training missions to prepare them for much more difficult bounties. Yet he remained uncertain and said so...but for some reason Inaho had been almost dismissive of his concerns.

 _Well, maybe not_ dismissive _, exactly._.. he corrected himself. He might have otherwise thought the other Guardian was rude or simply apathetic, but both possibilities contradicted the almost gentle way Inaho handled his charge back at the Tower. It had been in an awkward way, perhaps...but once they had left Vanguard Hall, it was as if a mask had dropped. What had been an impassive expression had turned into a subtle smile that somehow felt as if it had been exclusively for him. But...surely that had been just Slaine reading too much into it, some subconscious arrogance which he had no basis for. Regardless, there had been an inexplicable warmth to it – kindness, even – that the previous aloof demeanour lacked.

_That being the case...maybe he's overestimating me. But why? He hasn't seen me in combat yet._

He had considered asking, but his mentor had surprised him again by asking for his trust, and while Slaine felt that he could be trusted, Inaho had no way of knowing that. It almost seemed like a plea to his ears, and the act alone disarmed Slaine completely. Though he was unable to understand any reason his mentor would bother to ask or even care whether his charge had faith in him or not, the request was moved him in an unexpected way. It was as if...trust had been something no one had ever asked of him. With a light feeling in his chest, he was helpless to do anything other than accept and follow.

Δ  
Δ  
Λ

As breathtaking as the facade had been, Slaine had to admit the inner library of the Ishtar Academy easily eclipsed even the ancient splendour of its outer appearance. An involuntary gasp escaped him at the sight of more books than he could ever hope to read in a natural human lifespan, overwhelmed with pure wonder and incapable of finding a single focal point to take in. How such a treasure had managed to survive the centuries unmolested was a miracle unto itself, and he found himself struggling between conflicting urges to take every last book on the shelves and yet refrain from disturbing the sanctity of the library for future generations to enjoy.

Of course, the latter was an admittedly silly one; the best way to preserve the ancient texts was to retrieve them and bring them back to the City. Empty shelves testified to the slow migration that other, more forward-thinking Guardians or even normal humans had already undertaken. Perhaps the archivist back at the tower would know more...surely Master Rahool – one of the human offshoots calling themselves the Awoken – had already collected many of the missing tomes from those who had thought to bring back from the library what they could. The Crypto-Archaeologists tended to well-reward the intrepid exploring Guardians who presented their spoils to him.

 _Well...mostly_ , he corrected himself. Some Guardians complained of being given junk in return, though so far Slaine had yet to be given anything he couldn't use in some way in return for a handful of finds in the Cosmodrome. He was just grateful he'd found anything at all; it was yet another miracle that anything had been overlooked for him to find.

Then again, miracles seemed almost commonplace in spite of their circumstances. That an expansive library still remained might have been less of one than rising from the dead, but Slaine somehow had the feeling that he never would have been so fortunate until now. While being resurrected for the purpose of fighting in a war could hardly be considered good luck in itself, it was an atmittedly pleasant feeling to be needed. A bit selfishly, he was glad that he could be of some use to humanity.

At the moment, however, the tow-head couldn't hold himself back from a bit of childish indulgence.

“It..it's incredible. I never even thought something like this could exist now...”

With unrestrained eagerness, he turned back to Inaho.

“How long can we stay? Can we pick anything we like? How much can we bring back?”

Inwardly, he realised he was babbling, but as embarrassed as Slaine was, he couldn't help himself. _Especially_ when his companion only encouraged it.

“We have the day,” the brunet replied with another small smile which caused a bloom of warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the treasure surrounding him. “Part of our duties are collecting artefacts and ancient records, so it is entirely up to you what to bring back. Take whatever interests you...your Ghost will store everything via TransMat.”

It was all the encouragement he needed, and whatever restraint Slaine had been able to manage immediately dissipated. He could not keep the stupid grin off his face even if he'd wanted to.

Yet strangely, before he could pick a place to start, Inaho appeared to close himself off in a way not unlike when they had first met in Vanguard Hall. It was as if he was trying to hide something, though the blond couldn't quite figure out what that could possibly be.

“I'll make a final sweep of the area as a precaution,” the brunet told him before replacing his helmet almost as if to further hide his private thoughts. Slaine's disappointment must have been obvious, because the other Guardian clearly attempted to reassure him...or at least, it seemed like an attempt.

“Don't worry, I don't anticipate my patrol taking long, and I should return soon. If it becomes dangerous, hide and wait for me.”

The blond nodded and offered his best accommodating smile before his mentor turned and departed through the open double doors. The lack of human company dampened his mood slightly, even if he could only assume that Inaho was simply being cautious and making sure nothing would disturb his charge's enjoyment of the library. Still...

 _I wish he had asked, though_ , he thought with some disappointment. _I would have been fine helping secure the area so we could explore together..._

He couldn't help but sigh as he made his way towards a promising bookcase. It wasn't as if Inaho had any obligation to share his wish for them to get to know each other a little better or even just share his excitement over a library. Sure, he had appeared amicable enough once they had been out of earshot of their heckling superior, but that didn't necessarily mean he necessarily wanted to spend more time with his subordinate.

 _Maybe he doesn't find exploration or reading enjoyable? Does he even_ like _libraries?_ Slaine considered. _Maybe he thinks they're boring and only brought me here because he thought I might enjoy it..._

Somehow, he didn't think that was the case; Inaho had struck him as a person who would happily have come here on his own, purging the area first so he could read undisturbed. The question that remained was why he thought Slaine would also enjoy such a place.

_First overestimating my abilities, now this. Do I really remind him that much of someone who was good at combat and enjoyed books?_

He supposed that he should make it clear that even though Inaho's guesses so far had been right on the mark, eventually there would be some difference between Slaine and the other Guardian's lost loved one that would destroy the illusion in the cruellest way possible. If this continued for a long time, would Inaho even want to continue putting up with him once he was forced to face the truth?

 _On the other hand_...Slaine worried, fidgeting as he paused in front of the bookcase without seeing it, too consumed by his dilemma to begin perusing its contents. _Should I keep it to myself for now?_ Selfishly, he was enjoying the attentiveness, even if he might have only been imagining it. _Besides, Inaho doesn't seem to be someone who would have those kinds of association problems, so I might just be overthinking things..._

That inner turmoil was interrupted almost comically when his Ghost suddenly materialised in front of his face, causing him to stumble backwards with a surprised cry. Tharsis – the name had somehow popped into his head shortly after his resurrection and stuck – wasn't one to panic, so if she was appearing now, it could only mean trouble.

“Sorry for interrupting, but we've got company,” Tharsis informed him. “I'm picking up enemy readings approximately two kilometres from our location to the north-east.”

That snapped Slaine out of his reverie immediately; it was the direction Inaho had headed out for his patrol.

He didn't wait for another second before snatching the rifle holstered at his back even as he hurried to the location. “Please tell me he's ok...” he murmured.

Tharsis flew after him even as he ran, managing to catch up quickly enough to keep astride of him. “Don't worry, I'm still picking up your mentor's signal and his Ghost's...but we'd better hurry.”

Inaho's orders had been to hide and wait for him to return in the event of trouble, and the other Hunter was clearly someone more than capable of handling himself. Yet, Slaine couldn't help but worry as he hastened out of the library.

“You don't have to tell me that.”

* * *

While the Vex weren't the type of enemy to throw proverbial cannon fodder at enemies as other groups – nearly every encounter with the krill-based life-forms known as the Hive began with suicidal swarms of annoying, shrieking clawed Thrall – they could nevertheless become a nuisance. When the foot soldier Goblins or heavier Minotaurs would close in, Hobgoblins preferred to provide cover fire by sniping at whatever they considered to be enemies. At times, those enemies might be the tortoise-like Romanesque legions of the Cabal, the occasional Fallen platoon, or the chthonian Hive, but more often than not their targets were Guardians. In fact, many times they would stop firing at their previous opponents to turn their attention to their human, Awoken, or Exo foes. Yet, even in the absence of rushing tactics, an unaware Guardian could quickly and easily become overwhelmed.

Fortunately, Inaho was more than familiar with their movements, rarely caught by surprise. In actual battle, the Vex were only marginally more interesting than the Orbital Knights he had fought a lifetime ago...that is, save one Orbital Knight in particular. And as far as _that_ one was concerned...

The Nightstalker was a little more rushed than usual, and not simply because he would much rather be studying Slaine's expressions as he read over the ancient tomes in the library. It shouldn't have been too difficult if the tow-head was too absorbed in the books to notice he was being scrutinised, though he had proved far too observant in the past not to quickly notice. Inaho would just have to find a way to make it not so obvious when he was staring.

Easier said than done, though. Slaine was perhaps the only Count who had earned his position through cunning rather than inheritance or favouritism, and he had probably learned long before that point how to keep his guard consistently up living among the Terran-hating Versian nolility. Though the full extent of the suffering he had endured at their hands remained shrouded in mystery, Inaho had little doubt of the severity, having seen the scars in his medical records which Slaine had refused to discuss with anyone. He could hardly blame the man for being slow to trust and quickly learning to watch his proverbial back at all times. Especially so if – as the brunet was quickly discovering – being suspicious was against Slaine's natural inclination. He almost felt guilty over how easy it was to have earned his trust now that his memories were gone...though he had every intention of safeguarding that trust.

Perhaps he had been too hasty in leaving, given the surge of emotions he hadn't felt in years, but the Vex presence had proved that the 'gut' his sister had told him to trust long ago had been finely tuned enough to be reliable. His more rational mind insisted that it was merely that the many enemies of Guardians were terribly predictable, but then again, it stood to reason that humans would naturally develop such instincts after thousands of years of evolution. _Perhaps Yuki had been right about human instinct based on that,_ he considered.

Moreover, the universe hadn't been properly rational for centuries.

As if to prove him right, one of the Goblins from approximately three metres away disappeared in a cubic pattern of light only to reappear within melee range, attempting to strike at him. The robotic life-forms' habit of teleporting in that very fashion was especially annoying, and Inaho dealt with it in his usual manner of throwing down a poison-laced smoke grenade and dodging back out of range. While something like poisonous gasses wouldn't affect true machines such as the Fallen's Shank drones, it worked well enough with the microbe-laden radiolarian liquid within their mechanical frames; essentially the 'brains' of the creatures. It was hardly enough to kill them, but a well-placed throw of a Solar-charged knife into the radiolarian chamber in its torso fortunately was.

He almost sighed when there was brighter and longer flash of cube-patterned light across the amphitheatre, heralding another wave of Vex. _This might be more trouble than I first anticipated..._

Inaho was reluctant to rely on the special abilities granted by the Traveller, but there were situations where he had to admit they were rather convenient. The current scenario was one of those times.

His rifle disappeared as Void energy took the form of a glowing violet longbow in his hands; it took mere seconds to aim down from his position at the shielded Minotaur at the heart of the group. Its Void shield disintegrated immediately along with the rest of its body, leaving behind a series of Void Light tethers which anchored and blinded most of the remaining Vex in its wake. That in itself had been his objective in the first place, and a strategically-thrown grenade aught to at least clear out a good number of them...

...Which turned out to be a complete non-issue when a flash of blue-white light crackled to life directly above the tethered group and were immediately evaporated when an Arc-infused staff slammed down on them.

It appeared that Slaine was not content to surprise him just in their previous lives. _An Arcstrider?_

His assumption that the newer Hunter was a Bladedancer was not an unfounded one; most Hunters who used Arc energy abilities wielded long-knives to devastating effect. Those who chose staves were far less common as it was more difficult to control the boost of raw speed and agility with a larger weapon, and the acrobatics demanded of Arcstriders discouraged many from that path.

Slaine, however, didn't seem to be having such problems. Quickly and effortlessly dispatching the remaining Vex which had escaped his tether, the Arcstrider was a blur of motion, and each deft strike left nothing more than an after-image and the slight stench of ozone. The trance only lasted for ten seconds, but it was enough. The only thing left once the other Hunter completed his graceful dance of death was Inaho's regret that he could no longer watch what many would have described as 'poetry in motion'.

Once more, a turn of phrase which had made little sense to him before had suddenly became clear.

Yet, as much as he appreciated the lethal beauty of that special ability, Inaho could not stop himself from analysing it. That level of precision and discipline – necessary for such control over one's body – could not have come from the Traveller's enhancements alone. Superhuman strength and speed, the ability to harness Light as a weapon, some knowledge of how to use a wide variety of firearms...all these had appeared to be received abilities and knowledge. But anything beyond basic martial ability seemed to demand training from a previous life.

 _He must have had hand-to-hand combat training on Vers_ , Inaho concluded, even if he had no way of confirming his hypothesis. Inquiries in their past lived had been fruitless; Slaine had been as taciturn about the training he had received from the Versians as he was regarding the abuse he had suffered at their hands. The photographs Inaho had seen in his personal file of the litany of scars covering his torso and back had stood as a testament to the absolute cruelty the blond had endured. But had those been from training...or something else, something far more hideous?

In all likelihood, the scars were gone now; Ghosts typically would not resurrect Guardians with incurred and debilitating injuries from their previous lives. For his own part, the brunet had been revived with both his natural eyes intact, though there had been little difference between his natural eye and the cloned one which had been transplanted once his neurological pathways had been repaired. Inaho remained unable to recall the miraculous advancements in medicine during the Golden Age, only that Yuki had needled him almost incessantly about treatment and no, replacing it with another computer had been out of the question. In the end, he had relented if only to assuage her constant worry.

Asking about the scars, however, was completely out of the question, and not simply because it would be inappropriate and intrusive. Nevertheless, it was frustrating not knowing, though not simply because it remained a mystery forever out of reach. If Slaine himself had no memory or understanding of his buried issues, there seemed no clear way for Inaho to help him. Once again, he deliberated whether or not the amnesia which accompanied resurrection as a Guardian was truly a blessing, after all. It was one thing to be freed from the past without any subconscious issues, but quite another for those issues to be buried so deeply that even the lack of memories could not erase them.

His worry must have conveyed itself to Slaine somehow. He still found it amazing how the other Hunter managed to read him...even if he continued to misinterpret the reason for his body language.

“I'm sorry,” the neophyte Guardian stammered a timid apology as he fidgeted, and Inaho had no difficulty imagining the troubled expression underneath the mask of his helmet. “I-I know you ordered me to stay in the library, but I was worried and....I, um...”

“Don't worry about it,” he assured his charge. “In reality, it was a suggestion, not an order. I didn't want to disturb your reading.”

Of course, there was the fact that he also needed to use the time to reassert his more logic-driven nature, lest he simply blurt out what he was actually thinking in a moment of weakness. The blond was especially good at throwing him off-balance no matter how many timed Inaho had claimed that his behaviour fell within his expectations.

To no small amusement on Inaho's part, Slaine seemed almost horrified, seizing up before flailing and finally regaining control over himself. “Wh-what? That wouldn't be right! B-besides, I'm supposed to stick with you for training, you really shouldn't be spoiling me like that...”

Perhaps even more surprising than Slaine being able to read him, Inaho was astonished to discover that he might be learning how to read him in turn. It was incredible enough that he could count the number of people who claimed to be able to do that on a single hand, none of whom he had been able to find in his new life. But reading others had been nearly impossible for him, and even now he was largely pretending, like someone who could not speak or understand a foreign language using one or two familiar words to guess at the rest of what someone speaking the language had said.

After learning more about Slaine, however, he was finally starting to gain understanding. To the brunet, it seemed as if his fellow Guardian was once again second-guessing himself, most likely doubting his abilities. _Again_. Their new life together would doubtless be filled with constant reassurances, though it was not as if Inaho minded constantly complimenting him. As a matter of fact, he found it quite pleasurable. It gave him an excuse to praise the Hunter with luminous eyes like the sea.

“Do you still think you're incapable? Other Guardians would not have taken advantage of the opening I created so quickly and effectively. Void tethers only last for a matter of seconds; hesitation means wasted effort on my part. Yet, you eliminated all hostiles within the time it would have taken anyone else to realise there was an opening. You should be proud.”

Inaho dearly wished Slaine wasn't wearing his helmet; the blush beneath must have been absolutely endearing. Nevertheless, if his fidgeting was anything to go by, he would probably prefer a distraction.

“We should decide on books to take back that we won't read here.” Even he realised it was abrupt, but as long as it was effective, that was what mattered. Lifting his left hand with his palm turned upward, Inaho called his Ghost. “Sleipnir.”

Perhaps the Traveller-created AI picked up on his mood, because his Ghost refrained from complaint. “The usual, I assume?”

Before he could answer, a quiet voice interrupted the exchange. “You named your Ghost 'Sleipnir'?” Slaine asked, his self-depreciation apparently forgotten.

For a fleeting moment, Inaho was worried that the name had sparked a memory. “...Is that strange?”

To his relief, Slaine only resumed fidgeting, likely blushing beneath his helmet. “No, just...I don't want to seem presumptuous, but...I wouldn't have figured you for a mythology buff.”

The russet-eyed Hunter found the corners of his mouth lifting once again. “I'm not,” he admitted, deliberately refraining from mentioning anything referencing kataphrackts. “A friend of mine was.”

“...Oh.”

Normally, Inaho would have left things at that, but as he turned back towards the library, he noted the awkward, almost disappointed note in Slaine's reply. He had studied the man too long in their past lives to have dismissed it as unimportant. The Nightstalker chanced removing his helmet; perhaps seeing a human face would be reassuring to the more sensitive blond. Moreover, now that the adrenaline and time had flushed his system, he was reasonably confident that he had regained his proper composure and would no longer be disarmed by ecstatic, devastating smiles. He was reasonably certain that nothing in his typical impassive expression conveyed his inner emotions. At least, he hoped so.

“I've always been more interested in science and mathematics,” he admitted as he led the way back into the cavernous library. Even if he wasn't almost desperate to express himself accurately to the green-eyed Hunter – save for one emotion in particular – Slaine's presence seemed to naturally make him chattier. It might have been an indication of the innate charisma the blond possessed, but maybe if he just talked a little more about himself, Slaine would open up to him more.

Under normal circumstances, Inaho disliked such idle and meaningless conversation just to project a friendliness he had never particularly felt, yet for the first time, such an impulse was entirely genuine. Everyone else in the world could have misunderstood him and he wouldn't have cared...but he desperately wanted this one person to know his secret world. Perhaps with a sufficient amount of preparation and a mutual understanding, he could become a proper mentor, even a friend to Slaine. That was all he dared hope for.

He wasn't sure how he should go about it, however.

It was a stroke of fortune that Slaine appeared more than eager to reward his awkward, clumsy efforts.

“Oh! Those are fun to read about, too...maybe we can try to find where the Astronomy books were kept? Constellations are pretty interesting, aren't they?”

Inaho was fairly sure he hadn't simply imagined the hopeful note in the blond's voice out of his own wishful thinking, and made no effort to hide his own pleasure. Shared topics of interest were good...or at least, so he had been told.

“I find them to be.” After a moment, he realised he should try to keep the conversation going; not only did he not want to project the same aloofness that he did with others, but it was another opportunity to find out more about Slaine. Even with absent memories, he should have preferences. “Which is your favourite?”

As awkward as it was, his disjointed attempt at small talk appeared to relax the other Hunter as he paused to think on the question. “Hmm...I guess as far as appearances go, I've always thought Andromeda was really pretty,” he mused. “Partly since it has the Snowball Nebula in it. But...there's also Aquila, which isn't quite as noticeable but...”

It was easy enough for Inaho to figure out why the blond had a special fondness for that constellation in particular. “The name means 'eagle' in Latin, and its most prominent star is from an Arabic phrase which means 'the flying eagle'.”

Slaine gaped at him for a second before a wide, bright smile illuminated his expression. “Yes, that's it. Maybe that's not really the best thing to consider a constellation as a favourite, but...”

Inaho couldn't help but smile. “It's not a bad reason.”

For his own part, he had always been unable to understand why it was that human beings made such connections, but Slaine had struck him as a romantic even in their past lives. Inaho had made an effort to understand his perspective all those years ago, and it appeared that his work had not been a waste. The blond had opened up countless doors for him, and trying to understand him had meant trying to understand the universe through his eyes, in turn forcing him to see it with a different perspective. No matter how much he had tried on his own, the world had only made sense to him through mathematical formulas and scientific laws; it had taken the only person who had been able to challenge him to bridge the gap between the realms of science and humanity.

“I'm...” Inaho hesitated, trying to find a way to phrase his thoughts, things he had never bothered explaining to someone else before. “...Not very good with poetry or poetic descriptions. I've always struggled to understand why a field of science would have names from mythology or how they appeared to the astronomers who observed them.”

His effort was rewarded with a shy smile that Inaho burned into his memory right then and there. “Um, well...maybe I could help? I'm sure there has to be some poetry books around here. Maybe...”

The blond fidgeted again, but this time it seemed to be out of hope rather than discomfort. “...We could read them together?”

It was strange how soft light from Sol just happened to filter in through the green canopy of the library's ceiling, bathing the two of them in pale gold light, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. It reflected the sudden warmth he felt and the renewed lightness in his heart. Finally.... _finally_ they had begun again in the way they should have so many years ago, where the roads of science and art met.

“I'd like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RL curbstomped me hard, (not just D2; I don't want to freak anyone out here but my living room ceiling literally fell on me – well OK, I was in a different room and it was only the drywall and insulation. Still, it's a pain to deal with) so I apologise for the lag in updates. (Impossible Machines is even worse, but part of that is that one of the NPCs was proving even harder to write than Asseylum. She gets better, though.) I am going to see this through to the end no matter how long it takes because dammit, I love these two in this setting too much.
> 
> Finally, now that we know Ghosts can have names, I decided to give ones to Inaho's and Slaine's Ghosts. Yes, they have predictable ones, but what can I say, I like continuity nods. The other D2-influenced change of course being that I decided that Arcstrider suited Slaine better than Bladedancer. Bit of an ass pull on my part, so if it seems like an awkward change, let me know so I'll go back to earlier chapters and edit it. (Though I did like using the twist to highlight that Inaho still finds Slaine to be a little bit unpredictable)


End file.
